


Expose

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bondage, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Hand porn, Rule 63, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 23:42:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9407981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Bill decides to impress on Ford the fact that there is nothing she can hide from him.





	

Ford put her hands in her pockets, self-conscious even in the face of her muse. “I hadn’t considered that, but – ”

“Whoa-whoa-whoa,” Bill said. He phased from his chair to her, just a few inches from her face. “I bet what you were about to say was gonna be  _real_  interesting, but I’m gonna stop you there ‘cause it wasn’t gonna be  _that_  interesting. Take your hands outta your pockets." 

Ford flushed. But she obeyed, resisting the urge to fold them behind her back. Bill drifted down, still close enough to her body that he nearly brushed at her breasts, a static sensation prickling through her clothes. She shivered. He took one of her hands in both of his; it twitched, reflexively, but Ford kept still. "Bill,” she said.

“Hmm,” Bill said. He turned her hand over in his, then over again, inspecting it from every angle. “Hmmmmmm." 

"What? What is it?”

He spread her fingers one by one, gently, rubbing his thumb against the webbing between each one before moving to the next. Heat began to build in Ford’s stomach and creep up the back of her neck. She was aware of her nipples rubbing against her sweater. She tightened between her legs. “Bill, stop it,” she said. “What’s the point – ”

“Sh-sh-sh,” he said. He took her last finger in his hands, rubbing circles over it, pulses of sensation that stuck under her skin. “You wanna know what I think?” he asked. “I think this is proof of your greatness.  _I_  think this is proof that you’re above all the other pathetic, oblivious little creatures in your dimension. So I’m gonna need you to stop trying to hide them when I’m with you.” He let go, but his hands stayed close,  _almost_  touching her, still. “For that matter, why hide anything? I mean, you know that’s totally pointless with me, right? Heck, I probably know how wet you are better than you do!" 

Ford jerked her hand away and stepped back. Her face burned; she couldn’t look at him. Knowing that he was aware that she had human weaknesses was one matter; hearing him say the words was another. "I’m not,” she said. “Don’t misinterpret my feelings for you, Bill.”

For a moment, there was only silence in return. Then, he began to laugh. Ford ducked her head and clenched her hands into fists. He kept laughing, louder, until it filled the entire landscape, until it echoed off every surface. Ford clapped her hands to her ears, but it did nothing to muffle the sound. 

“Oh,  _wow!_ ” Bill popped in front of her, large enough that his hands easily wrapped around her wrists. He yanked her hands down and leaned in, his eye crinkled in delight. “Did you really just say that? To me? To my facet? After we’ve been working together for – for weeks!” The cackling started again.

“It isn’t funny!”

“After – ” Tears pooled in his eye and he draped himself over Ford’s shoulders, hugging her. “After you’ve let me inside your mind, body, and soul. Oh, Fordsy, you do realize that I know things about you that you’ve forgotten?” He leaned back, hands planted on her shoulders. “That I know things about your future that you’ll never fully comprehend? That I know  _exactly_  what you want me to do to your va – ”

Ford hit him square in the eye. 

Bill spun in the air away from her and came to a stop upside down, his back to her. 

Ford froze in place. She did not just do that. 

Bill finished the last flip lazily. He adjusted his hat and tie. “Sheesh,” he said, flicking nonexistent dust from his arm. “You humans and your genitals." 

"Bill, I – ”

Bill was  _there_ , his finger on her lips. “I don’t want you to apologize, Sixer. I want you to give me your hands.”

Ford knelt and lifted her hands, palms up. 

Bill shrank until he could fit in one of her palms, and there he perched, crossing his legs. He began to rub her extra finger. “Should we start over?” he said. “Or should I just replay it?”

Ford swallowed. 

“Let’s replay it,” he said. He grew, his eye going wide. Ford saw herself, the way she had looked to him just a moment ago – flushed, her eyes half-lidded and dark. As their conversation replayed, Bill ran his fingers over her hand, a light touch that made goosebumps rise on her arms. When the Bill in his eye said,  _I probably know how wet you are,_ he cut the image away. Bill traced his finger down to the sensitive line of her wrist. Ford shivered. “Now,” he said. “Pop quiz: Was I lying at any point in that conversation?”

Ford shifted. Her pulse was beating between her legs, steady and warm. “No,” she said.

“Why is that?”

“You’ve never lied to me,” she said. 

“Ding ding ding! Question two: Do you think I would ever waste my time considering the slime you humans produce if it weren’t for someone very special?”

“…no." 

"That’s my smart girl,” he said. “Question three: Are you gonna put me in your lap or what?”

Ford was burning. She lowered her hands until they rested on her thighs. Life post-Bill always had a surreal quality to it, technicolor and grand, but this – this was beyond that. Bill Cipher was her muse, her confidant, her friend. And he was climbing out of her hand to hitch her sweater up over her stomach. He ran his hand over her soft belly, tracing the line of downy hair that crept over the hem of her slacks. 

He jabbed his finger in her bellybutton.

“ _Ow!_ ” Ford shoved him off her legs.

Bill cackled. “Whoops! Sorry, you humans’ orifices all look the same to me." 

"Alright, that’s it,” Ford snapped, and began to spiral out of the Mindscape. 

Bill caught her short with a chain around her neck, a burst of sudden pain. Ford choked and grabbed at her neck. “I’m kidding!” He began to reel her back up from the darkness; black hands slid from under her and caught her weight, supporting her and letting her breathe. Ford wheezed and tried to pull at the collar around her neck, but the hands had a firm grasp on her arms and did not relent. 

“I’m kidding,” Bill said. “Don’t be mad. I want to fuck you, too.” As she and the hands crested the platform, black arms grew from them, long and sinewy, connecting back to Bill. They began to shift on her body, sliding up her thighs and down her shoulders. One slipped under the neck of her sweater and crept down to her breasts. It circled a nipple, then lightly pinched it. “You really oughta lighten up, Ford, you know that?”

Ford moaned.

“Now, let’s see…“ A thumb pushed between her legs, grinding at her clit, and Ford’s thighs closed against it compulsively. "Clothes on or off, what do you think?" 

"You know, Bill,” Ford said, tightening her knees against Bill’s wrist. “There’s such a thing as overkill.” She was surprised the sentence came out whole when her body was as overstimulated as it was – pleased, too, because it proved that her mind hadn’t abandoned her. 

“Oh, this isn’t overkill,” Bill said. “You’re not ready for my overkill.” He peeled her shirt up, slow, slow, revealing her stomach. He stopped before the fabric went over the heavy curve of her breasts – three hands slid over the exposed skin, electric and warm. Ford shuddered. The hand at her breast let go of her nipple, the absence of pressure making her twist and hiss softly. It trailed up to her throat and hovered there, just on the cusp of touching her. His thumb eased down until it touched her pulse – the thumb between her legs pressed down at the same time, holding her heartbeat-to-heartbeat. 

Ford braced herself for the inevitable grind of his fingers, the pleasure curving up in her until her body couldn’t contain it. Instead, Bill held her, and held her, perfectly still, the pressure just on the cusp of being enough. The anticipation of movement kept her on edge, made her crave this, intensely. “Bill,” she said. She started to squirm, rocking her hips against the curve of his thumb. She tugged her arms, grinding harder, with quick desperate thrusts. "Bill,“ she said, again, "let me touch you.”

Bill’s eye narrowed in pleasure. “No,” he said. Finally, his hands began to move. The one at her throat gently circled it, holding her throat in the hook of his thumb and forefinger. The one between her legs, mercifully, began to stroke her through her slacks. Ford groaned and twisted against him; the pressure wasn’t enough through her pants, too indistinct. Her underwear was starting to stick to her from her slick. 

“Boy, look at you squirm. You humans are so _sensitive._ ” Ford swallowed and tugged fruitlessly at the hands. More were beginning to creep over her body, cupping her breasts, skating along the sensitive spot just under her ribs, along her thighs, tugging her legs a little wider, opening her a little more. “It always surprises me,” he said. “Sure is fun to watch, though!”

One of the hands lifted away from her, turning at a neat angle – Bill snapped. Her clothes fell away. The effect it had on her shocked her, partly because of its strength and partly because it seemed so ridiculous, as he had already exposed her, emotionally. Her whole body flushed and she moaned, bucking up. There was nothing left to hide – never, perhaps, had been anything she could hide. But now that was incontrovertible, physical. 

Several of Bill’s hands slid down her body; he tilted her back, one large hand supporting her head and shoulders in its palm. Three hands skated across her thighs, the thick lips of her pussy. Three thumbs caught the rounded lips and peeled her pussy open, exposing her wholly. Ford’s thighs jerked, trying to close – but stayed held open, of course. The tip of Bill’s finger traced her slit, then came to a stop at her clitoris. He pinched it, lightly – Ford gasped; the pulse of pleasure went all the way to the the top of her skull, her hair prickling with it. 

“Too easy,” Bill said. “Oh, Fordsy. You’re making a mess.” 

She was, the slickness of her dripping down her thighs, her ass, down into the abyss of the Mindscape. She sweated, feverish and overheated. “You’re making a mess of me,” she said. 

“Ha! I guess I am.” With that, he sunk two of his fingers into her cunt. They entered her easily, with hardly any resistance at all – it felt right, like her body knew she was meant to have him in her. He floated closer; he closed his eye and opened it a mouth, his long, inhuman tongue coiling out of him. He began to lick her –  not just between her legs, but across her thighs, up her stomach, covering in his thick spit until it dripped off her. All the while, his fingers pumped inside of her, drawing a trembling, brilliant pleasure out of her.

Ford came with strobe light pleasure, her body shaking and bucking – Bill didn’t stop, fucking her through it, making it drag until it _hurt,_ until it was becoming a second orgasm, another wave of pleasure, and on even then – 

Ford jerked awake with a gasp. She had soaked through her underwear and her body was buzzing, so loud that all she could do for several minutes was jam her hand between her legs and grind it out. “Bill,” she gasped, “Bill, god – “ Her orgasm, this time, felt weak compared to the one he’d given her in her mind. But it also finally brought her down; she collapsed, face-first, on the couch. She caught her breath. As she came back to herself, she realized she was grinning, so broad and bright that it hurt.

There was nothing left to hide.


End file.
